Life Note: the 2nd Generation
by Killjoy Whatsername
Summary: One of Near's successors in training does research on Shinigami, while a Kiraist keeps the long-dead legend alive in the Internet. What do they have in common? When a new Kira appears and a Life Note falls from the sky, pro-Kira and Anti-Kira have to unite against the real threat. Warning: OC overload. No Mary Sues.


A/N: I replaced my original Life Note: The Second Generation because it was too Mary Sue. There was no way Near would have a biologically related successor who could see ghosts and surpassed his intelligence at age eight. There was no way Matsuda's descendant would be the next Kira. There was no way a shinigami would look beautiful! So I'm restarting with realistic OC's. They are not similar to the canon Wammy boys at all, like most Mary Sues are, and they don't possess special abilities except for the Life Note. It is required for them to be geniuses but they still have flaws. And no matter how sad their past is (because it's required for them to be orphans), they don't angst about it like a Sue.

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Wanted to See Aliens

The clock ticked for what felt like hours as my so-called guardian coughed violently. I sat with my right leg shaking, my fists clenched and sweaty, refusing to open. The old man behind the desk, his name was Mr. Roger Ruvie as the name plaque said, stared at the clock until the old woman beside me stopped coughing her lungs out.

"You'll just need to sign this last sheet, Ma'am," Roger said, sliding a sheet of paperwork across the desk.

The old woman lifted her blue pen and with a trembling right hand, she signed her name in fancy cursive on a line in the bottom of the page. Roger carefully retrieved the paper as the woman returned the pen into a wooden cup sitting on the desk. After that, she started choking on her breath again. I couldn't remember her being that sick before the plane ride. Maybe old people just fall sicker than young people.

I tried to open my fists as I felt a cooling sensation from the evaporating sweat. And then, I did what I always did. I thought.

I thought about how the woman was my very distant relative. My dad's great-uncle's cousin's sister in law. She had only met my dad once and they weren't very close, but she was the only family I had left. My dad did what it takes to keep me away from child services, he wanted me to be with a relative, but it was unavoidable. My distant relative had turned me over to an orphanage in Britain. She told me that it was better off like this, or I would have starved in the streets or ended up in another orphanage. Wammy's house was no ordinary children's home, it was a prestigious school. She said she was old and was going to die soon, but it only hurt me a little because I had only known her for a week. She said my father would understand why she had to do this, but what did she know? She only met him once.

Before I travelled to Britain from America with her as my escort, I lived a content life with my dad for my entire childhood. He told me that my mother left me with him, even if he wasn't my real father, and there were two other possible candidates. But he took care of me anyway. He had been an astronomer, before he died of blood loss after getting mugged. The ambulance came when it was too late, but he was able to contact his good friend before his last breath. I was still puzzled about why he left me with a stranger, rather than his friends or even my potential biological parents. Sometimes, I would think that he planned this all along, so I could get into Wammy's House in case anything happened to him. I never wanted to stay with any other family or live in some orphanage all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. I wanted to stay with him.

I remembered how he used to read me outdated encyclopedias for bedtime stories and how we would do our research after breakfast to correct the information. One morning, we were almost out of toaster waffles, and I took the last one. I ate it from the outside going to the center, until my waffle was a little circle with maple syrup on top.

"This reminds me of Pluto," I told my dad.

"Why?" he chuckled.

"It just does. It's like a waffle planet,"

He carried his laptop over to the dining table with Google opened up.

I typed in the name of the planet.

"Pluto's not a planet?" I asked him with confusion after reading one of the articles I found online.

"It's a dwarf planet,"

"But the book said-"

"The book is old and people discover new things over time," he smiled.

"Did people discover aliens?" I asked.

He shrugged and said "No, but it's a vast galaxy. Even if they exist, we'll never be able to reach them,"

"A vast galaxy, huh? You know, when I grow up, I want to discover the technology for people to go really really far into space so we could meet the aliens!"

He ruffled my hair, which was dark brown, unlike his straight blond hair. "If you try really hard," he said softly. "But eat your waffles, first,"

And so I shoved the rest of the waffle into my mouth as I stared at the wall clock, waiting for that time to come.

I heard Roger's clock ticking again as another flashback came. It was January, just a few weeks before my father died. It hurt to say those words, but I didn't believe in euphemisms, and it would be uncomfortable for me to say that he passed away. I remember gazing through a telescope with him. There were three stars shining very brightly and could be seen clearly.

"Hey, Dad," I called him.

"Yes, Leighton?"

"That constellation is Orion's Belt, right?"

Without looking through the telescope he just nodded. "Those three stars that could be seen, yes. It's so visible at this time of night," he said softly and spent the rest of the night looking up.

It wasn't the last night I watched the stars with him, but it was the one night when we didn't talk much. He would normally go on about his knowledge of outer space. I wanted to be like him.

My attention snapped back when the old lady bent her head down at me and said "I'm sorry, child. Goodbye," as she gave me a pat on the shoulder before she left. I never said "Goodbye" back to her.

The doorknob clicked behind her and I heard Roger say "So, Leighton Williams, right?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"You're going to need an alias if you are going to live here from now on,"

"So I got accepted?" I optimistically reassured as if it was my dream university I got accepted to.

"Yes, you did. According to your background, your father spent a lot of time studying with you. You had perfect grades, except in the arts, and you love puzzles,"

"Mind games," I corrected him. I hated puzzle toys, but verbal brain teasers were my favorite.

"Yes. So, have you decided your name?"

"Orion," I instantly replied, thinking back to the constellation I saw one night.

"Very well," he took a few books and placed them on his desk, making a loud noise as some dust blew to my face.

I sneezed quietly.

He ignored me while searching in his drawer for something. More paperwork.

He handed me one of the pages, a map of the institution, and he pointed at my room on the paper.

"This is where you'll be staying,"

"Yup."

"Go there with your belongings, if you need help lifting anything, ask me. I'll give you some more details later,"

"Yup," I said again and I marched out of his office with my suitcase of clothes in one hand and my sock monkey, Bobby, in my other arm.

"Actually, Sir," I turned around once I had reached the door, "I need help carrying those," I pointed to a bigger suitcase with my inheritance in it.

I wasn't allowed to claim the money until I was eighteen, which would be in eight years, but I kept one of his smaller telescopes, his laptop, and a biology encyclopedia he used to read me when I was six. (It got awkward when I accidentally turned the page to the female reproductive system.) I was really fortunate to have kept all those stuff. The rest of his belongings were either inherited by close friends, given away, or thrown away.

Dropped to the wooden floor, my bigger suitcase made a loud noise as I glared at the old man.

"Careful!" I wanted to hiss at him, but I wasn't in the mood.

Roger just cleared his throat and walked out of my new room, closing the door behind him.

I held on to my other suitcase because there wasn't any room left on the floor. Stacks of thick books we're scattered throughout the bedroom, with an occupied bed in one corner and mine in the opposite side. The shelves were tightly packed with more books and so were the chest drawers, which were wide open with a couple of books spilling out.

It wasn't long until I met my roommate. He sat on his bed with his legs crossed and his face buried in a book of ancient spells. We had the same hair color, but his hair was slightly longer than mine, and he was wearing a black sweatshirt with green, plaid pajamas.

I stayed at my entrance point, holding Bobby close to my heart. He looked up from his book, then he continued reading the rest of the page before rushing out of his bed. He formed a path, shoving some of the stacks aside with his bare feet.

"You're the newbie? That's right! You're the newbie, aren't you?" he said while pointing at me, first confused, then cheerful.

I stood still and rolled my eyes, refusing to react.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that all these books were blocking your way," he lightly kicked at one of the stacks as he spoke (with a thick English accent), possibly with a hint of sarcasm.

"Come along, newbie. Go ahead and take a seat,"

Following his polite request, I took a couple steps back and carefully sat on a wooden chair before he tried to stop me.

"I wouldn't sit on Busby's chair if I were you. It's been cursed! Anyone who sits on that chair will die," he implied with a serious tone.

My butt was in midair when he dismissively explained "Just kidding. That's not the real Busby's chair. It's just an ordinary chair with broken legs. Right now, it's held up by sticks and tape."

I grimaced at the chair and stood up straight.

He snickered and then asked "So, what's your name, noob?"

"Leighton Will-"

"Hold on," he placed a hand over my mouth. "Real names are classified information."

"Ifs 'Ri'n. Wh't's y'rs?" I mumbled under his hand, which he later retrieved and wiped on his sweatshirt.

He somehow found my mumbling comprehensible, turned around and started pacing back and forth through the book-free path with his hands behind his back. He answered in some kind of scripted speech, stressing every other word or phrase.

"Name: Classified," He looked at the ceiling when he said the category, then into my eyes when he said the answer.

"Alias: Clair. Your possible reaction: 'That's a girl name.' My opinion: 'I don't care.' Occupation: student. Goal: be the next L. Field of expertise: research. Interests: the supernatural." he picked up the spell book at the last word.

"What about your interests, 'Ri'n?" he asked, dropping the book close to my feet.

"I like...Astronomy," I shyly replied.

"A-and my name is Orion, not 'Ri'n."

"O!" Clair gasped, his eyes became wide as golf balls.

"O?" I repeated.

"O! Your name begins with O! That's pretty close to L! You must be a smart kid, I mean, compared to the others," he grinned as his pupils shrunk in excitement.

"So what?"

"So...the ones whose names are closer to L are the more talented ones, also the most likely to become L's successor! The current L's name begins with N, so Roger must have seen a lot of potential in you when he chose your name!"

I tried to sum up Clair's spilled words. Trying to hide my confusion, I just said "Actually, I chose my name."

His stiff, psychotic expression relaxed and he clarified, "Well, then your name is insignificant to your rank."

"Unless-" he swiftly turned his head at me, "-you somehow make it to the top, coincidentally matching your name with your rank."

I reluctantly nodded to show that I was listening, or attempting to listen.

"Anyway, newbie," he told me in a soothing voice, "If you need help with anything, just ask me. The old geezer isn't much help with adjusting to the system."

Unsure of what to say, I used my finger to make it look like Bobby was nodding his head.

"Nice monkey," he commented.

With that, Clair returned to his bed, sitting cross-legged with a spell book in hand once again.

(A/N: Just to get a couple things clear, O's name has nothing to do with his rank. He won't be Near's successor. And Clair cannot use magic. He was reading a spell book for his shinigami research project to be revealed in the next chapter. Please review with criticism and tell me if there's anything Mary Sue about my OC's so far. I know there hasn't been a lot of character development yet but there will be more. Also, it will be Mary Sue if I bring L back, unless the owner of the Life Note somehow figure out L's real name, the hard way.)


End file.
